


Finding the Dream

by pandafarts



Category: Free!
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, post episode 11, super fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-16 23:43:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2289011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandafarts/pseuds/pandafarts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haru did have a dream, but there was no scout to talk to, no time to beat to make it happen. Makoto just didn't think of him that way, or did he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding the Dream

Finding the Dream  
Episode 11 did bad things to my heart okay? He is not going to Australia I forbid it! He is going to stay and go to Tokyo with Makoto and be his wifey and that is final, because it’s a beautiful fucking ship and I will go down with it gross sobbing  
It doesn’t take long for Makoto to come and knock on his door. His instinct is to run and hide, but he’s too tired to do anything other than hide in his sheets and feel sorry for himself.  
He and Makoto had never fought like that before.  
“It’s because we all love you! Care about you! Why can’t you see that?”  
“We’d want you to find it.”  
Find a dream? Haru kept insisting that he didn’t have one. But he did, one too shameful to speak aloud.  
“Love you, care about you.”  
“Love you.”  
Like a friend, like a brother.  
Love you.  
Tokyo.  
Haru curled further into his warm sheets, feeling shame make his way down his body like a cold ice that refused to be warmed by mere creature comforts.  
Haru’s dream, was to be free to be himself. Not just in the water. But outside of it.  
He wanted to come out to Makoto. He wanted…. He wanted a different love than the one Makoto had for him, a permanent, together until we die kind of love. A romantic, love, a sexual love.  
He was so ashamed to feel this way, so incredibly hurt that it was one-sided, and so foolish for running away from the incredible friendship, the friendship that would never ever be more.  
His dream was to be with Makoto. He doesn’t have a reachable dream, a time to beat, a scout he can talk to to make it happen.  
It wasn’t possible.  
Haru is alarmed to hear the doorbell again.  
He wants to answer and fling himself into Makoto’s arms, cry and tell him everything.  
But he doesn’t. He’s not free to.  
Makoto knows where the spare key is, but Haru took it inside with him, not taking any chances of him getting in, finding out his secret dream, HATING him.  
Or even worse turning him down gently.  
Haru’s heart breaks as the doorbell stops ringing.  
“Let me in!!” He can barely hear him, from outside, but he sounds more desperate than he has before.  
“Please! Talk to me! I need to talk to you Haru!”  
Haru says nothing.  
“I can’t leave you on a sour note like this!”  
Sure you can.  
“Not when….. Dammit. I love you too much to do it that way. Answer your fucking door HARUKA!!”  
He had never ever, heard Makoto say the F-word. Ever. Never heard a direct ‘I love you.’  
Even Makoto looks surprised to see him answer the door. He looks desperate, wide eyed, panicky.  
“Hi.”  
He doesn’t know what to expect. A scolding, a hello, but he is not expecting a hug. A really tight, bear hug, with Makoto holding him against every nook of his muscled frame and breathing in his hair.  
“I love you, Haru. A lot. Please know that. I wish I could take you to Tokyo with me.”  
“Then, bring me.”  
“Okay. You’re coming. Whether you like it or not.”  
It was like being in the deep end, with heavy pressure surrounding him, but with warm pressure instead of cool and the thing holding him down is not the gravity of the water, but the gentle strength of Makoto’s arms. He smells like salt water, and something a little musky, and he’s so warm, so much warmer than the sheets he’s been hiding in.  
“Makoto I wanna be free.”  
“Then be free.” Hearing his voice rumbling as he curls his face into his neck is almost too much.  
“I need to get something off my chest.”  
“Go for it.”  
Haru pauses.  
“Makoto, I think I’m gay. And I… have feelings for you.”  
A pause  
Oh god, say something.  
More pause.  
“Haru….. I thought…. I thought that you knew I knew that. We’re sort of in love with each other right, or did I…. Read it all wrong? I thought it was obvious…. But if you’re mad….”  
“I love you.” Haru drags him inside and kisses him. He feels like he’ll die if they don’t kiss soon.  
They couldn’t possibly be any closer, the comfortable clothes he had intended for sleeping in are suddenly all too constricting, and are shucked off and left in sad, abandoned little clumps on the floor, Makoto’s clothes following soon too. Haru is desperate, to lick and touch and kiss, and he can’t breathe, it’s so perfect, and Makoto’s even kissing him back  
His skin is hot, his mouth his hot, the erection pressing insistently on his thigh is hot, and he wonders if maybe he’s cold until these moments they come together. He feels so alive, and yet drugged with pleasure, the steady push and pull of the kiss like the tide, drowning him, taking him, making him forget any feelings of loneliness.  
Haru is a surprisingly very emotional person. He can seem bored and detached, but when angry he lashes out, he swims with passion, he trembles when he’s scared.  
Still it is somewhat of a shock when he feels tears down his face.  
“Oh Haru. What’s the matter, baby?”  
Baby. Here he doesn’t have to say ‘drop the chan’ here he is baby. He is warm and aroused, and held tightly as he drowns in the pleasure that Makoto is giving him. Here he doesn’t need to be in water to be free. This person knows him, better than anyone, and he still is kissing him, stripping him naked in his hallway.  
He was so lucky it hurt.  
“Nothing. I love you.”  
And he did, loved the friendship, loved how Makoto didn’t judge him for the little crack in his voice, and how he simply smiled sweetly before gently starting to stroke his cock in his deliciously hot hand.  
“I love you Haruka. So much, baby.”  
Haru closes his eyes. He wants to commit every callus, every tendon to memory. He doesn’t know why it was so different to have Makoto do this to him when he did it himself plenty of times.  
Maybe because he didn’t love himself half as much as Makoto loved him.  
Makoto has a scar on his palm from his youth, having touched his mother’s curling iron by mistake, and if Haru concentrated hard enough he could almost feel it as he touched him.  
God he was so close.  
“Mako..Makoto… bed.” He needs to lie down before his knees give out.  
“Whatever makes Haru Chan happy.”  
“Drop the chan.”  
Makoto laughs, because who gets this feisty so close to orgasm, other than Haru, but his mirth is short lived because his little dolphin is impatient, and it’s hard to laugh too hard when you’re being backed into a bedroom.  
Haru pushes him back on the bed, and sits for a minute, drinking him in.  
He is beautiful.  
“Haru? Come here.”  
Here he is, hand out like the million times he’s pulled him out of the pool, same soft smile.  
Haru sits opposite him, sighing softly when Makoto reaches out to hold him. He is pulled into his lap, chest to chest, strong arms tight around him, a feeling of security so strong that it makes his breath choke in his throat.  
And then his breath is stolen. He didn’t know that Makoto could kiss like this, but he could, all firm pressure and just enough tongue. He jumps when his erection rubs against his best friend’s inner thigh, and he really can’t help but to rub on it a little, just to hear Makoto’s sharp inhale.  
“Here. You’re close right?” Makoto takes both of them in hand and places Haru’s hand on top of his own. He can feel the heat of him, the slickness that’s coated him, and when he thrusts into their hands he can feel the vien running along the underside.  
It’s too much, but at the same time it’s perfect.  
They kiss, messily, both having to pull away a handful of times to catch their breath. Haru can feel himself dripping precome, so much that it’s almost too wet, sliding down to his ass practically, and he moans whenever Makoto does because it’s the most erotic thing he’s heard.  
He closes his eyes, because it feels good, even just stroking off together, and how many times has he done this and wished it was Makoto, how many times has he done this to himself out of boredom and not felt this good.  
It felt way too good, pace a little desperate, and when Makoto’s stomach and abs start to feel tight, he knows he’s about to come, if the loud panting wasn’t enough of a hint.  
“Makoto.. love you.”  
“Ngghh, Haru I….” Makoto never gets to finish his sentence because he’s coming hard onto Haru’s hand and when it gets on his belly it’s too erotic not follow him. It’s one of the hardest orgasms he’s ever had, leaving his stomach clenching hard and his blood roaring. He’s trembling, and once Makoto finishes and gathers his wits they  
flop down gracelessly on the bed, hands sticky, bellies sticky, chest slick with sweat. An exhausted Makoto smoothes his hand over his shaking back, presses kisses in his hair, and holds him like he’s never going to leave.  
Haru folds himself into his friend, as close as possible, as warm as possible. The smell of sex is heavy in the air, his body stops shaking and he knows.  
Distance could never ruin them. They were solid.  
Because they were in love.


End file.
